I Will Fall
by Regent Septimus
Summary: Commander Arc of the 666th secret elite Regiment of the Death Korps of Krieg storms the Ork-infestated world of Nyle to save the occupying Imperial Guard from Exterminatus with the penetrating force of the Lance of the Emperor. Forging legend with every step, kill and declaration; what becomes of the Commander after he is torn from all that he knows and is thrown into Remnant?
1. Prologue

"DAKKA DAKKA DAKKA! Wahahaha! We'z got'em gud!" the Shoota Boy relaxed his trigger finger for but a moment as he heard the shooter next to him click dry on ammo. "Wahaha! More dakka fer me then!" grinning widely before he found the world spinning as his 'comrade' gun-butted him with the makeshift blaster.

"More fer me you'z mean" the other said cockily as he once more open fired with whatever stolen ammunition he could loot, the gun firing skyward and all around as the two began to wrestle over it, friend and foe blasted all around from the careless tussle.

"Boyz! Yer ruining me hard-earned Waaugh!" the Ork Nob was quick to pummel the two down in a show of power, cockily smirking to his onlookers. "And dat iz why ya don't mess wiv-"

 **BOOM**

"Reloading main cannon. Aiming. And... fire" a burst of fire bellowed in the distance and the Imperial Guardsmen took a moment to appreciate the shower of Ork gore in the distance, a symphony of howling thunder around them as the Basilisk units stormed the battlefield with fiery hell.

"Alright, enough sightseeing lads, nock another shell in and lets keep that Green Tide at bay." the onsite Sergeant ordered, followed by 'Aye Sir!'s all around before another round of thunder boomed off into the distance.

"Sir, the Eastern units have all been slain and the Green skins are attacking en masse from the flank" the sergeant did his best not to let his stoic facade drop at the words of his aide, though little could be done from the news.

"There was over 50,000 men there barely 4 hours ago..." he uttered to himself, truly taken aback by such overwhelming odds stacked against them. One would never guess it but this was the Imperial Guards war here. They started it in order to purge the Green Xenos filth and yet now they're holding a defensive parameter from all sides as the tide moves in with no sign of stopping.

This was not how this was supposed to go, they hadn't anticipated even a tenth of this many Orkz!

"When is the reinforcements due?" he asked, breath beginning to quicken at their impending demise.

The Guard looked deathly pale and the Sergeant's heart sank at what he feared was to come in response. "Any minute now Sir" he released a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding "But there have been some... alterations" fear once more became prevalent and the aide hurriedly elaborated "The reinforcements have all been withdrawn and the planet is seen beyond saving." all within earshot looked grim at the news because that could only mean one thing:

"They're declaring Exterminatus Sir."

* * *

"Keep firing! Today you will fall as men and women of the Imperium or you will fall by my laser fire as dogs!" The Commissar roared out, doing very little to revitalise the remaining Guardsmen, stranded with no way out beyond death.

Even the Earthshaker cannons had stopped firing, no doubt the result of that overwhelmingly large squadron of Stormboyz that had flown overhead barely minutes ago. You just don't see squads of that many Orks anywhere, the Big Mek Warboss here really showed his prowess with every technological marvel they managed to integrate into the war without it simply malfunctioning and bursting into further Ork death.

Private Jennes had been firing into this endless horde for far longer than she'd like to consider, having moved several miles on foot as the numbers shrank and another outfit she had posted in sank into oblivion. And as she watched her comrades die around her for what must have been nearing the hundred thousandth time this day, she realised that all any of them had left at this point was their faith in the God Emperor.

She wistfully considered how paltry that was, but she grasped tightly onto her faith, knowing that without it all would be lost.

"Do NOT stop firing! Grenades, plasma, flamers and laser fire, all welcome you to damnation Xenos scum!" and like that she watched as their metaphorical backbone drew his sword to buy the guard even one second more to find their faith, rewarded with the sight of the man literally ripped apart in the hands of Mega Nobz far bigger than they or he.

And with its approach she heard a mighty bellow of 'Waaugh!' as she closed her eyes, numbly pulling the trigger of her lasgun as it raised its power klaw to sign her end.

Only for it to never come.

Her eyes opened just in time to see the bisected, top heavy corpse of the armoured Nob drop to the ground with an incredible thud. She stared into the eyes - or rather, masked visage of her saviour and was shocked beyond words at what she saw. Whispers of the 'Death Korps' met her ears and reality caught up to her, willing tears away as she watched the hardy men and women of Krieg filter through their ranks with weapons drawn and death on hand, making headway in the only direction she had thought impossible.

That is to say, _towards the enemy_.

In a battle where they had spent countless hours shrinking further and further away from this horde, these soldiers were moving forward with calculated ease; their skill unprecedented and unmatched, their firepower awe-inspiring as the Earth once more shook with shells from their own salvaged guns and the artillery the Korps brought with them. The very way they seared through the horde with billowing laser fire, concentrated at the centre to forge their path onward through the Green Sea's forced parting, their flanks supported by Leman Russ, Destroyer's, Chimera's and more, the green tides turning red with blood with every step the Death Korps took, her saviour at its helm with Hellpistol spewing death with every pull of its trigger and power sword severing Ork flesh, armour and weaponry asunder with every swing, as if it were offended to exist in the same space as the Xenos filth.

She stood slowly, mute alongside her peers as they watched the war turn around so quickly. She watched looted tanks and Deff Dreads cease to exist under the focus of anti-tank Destroyers, Baneblades and Stormblades even making their presence known as they cut a swath into the thinning hordes with unparalleled weapon superiority.

She tentatively took a step forward and watched the guards around her do the same. She took another and they began to gather themselves as paces quickened, guns were retrieved, grenades were scavenged and cries echoed as all sprinted for the frontlines to see this war put to an end.

Stormboyz exploded into gore and bits when the Chimera Stormbolters opened fire, Nobz - the Ork elites fell to the plasma fire of the Krieg Grenadiers, bikers were steamrolled by tank treads and Weirdboyz burst into fiery death when the Hellhounds opened their burning maws.

Ten thousand lasguns, no, more than that entered into the fray at that point, drilling incisions through heart and brain, spine and skull in every direction. Orks began to turn and run as their overwhelming victory became whelmed indeed, fleeing as the drop of their numbers vastly overwhelmed the number of Krieg men slain.

They all followed this faceless leader, adorned in mask as the rest were; the shield they donned to survive their apocalyptic worlds as recompense for their actions stuck with them even in breathable environments such as here. But he was different even still.

The Grenadiers swarming his position took the mantle of the skull to symbolise the deaths of the people they once were, their lives forfeit to the cause until death claimed them as penance for their misdeeds.

The Commissar flanking his position on either side wore uniforms more decorated than the others and wore their caps with pride, swinging power swords and Laspistols about with incredible skill she had failed to see in her own commanding Commissar.

Even for the hardy men of the dead worlds of Krieg, these men were more than that.

Even for the Grenadiers of their Korps, these elite were more than that.

And even as the backbone of the Imperial Guard, these Commissar carved a path with more zeal and passion than she had ever witnessed.

But he at the front. Their nameless saviour, was something else entirely.

* * *

Hours passed and both sides took death tolls numbering in millions, the amount rising faster than anybody would ever dare to imagine.

For Warboss 'Ammer'n Nale, this wasn't quite what he had hoped for he must admit, but he knew he could remedy this given time.

Time he was learning he may not have.

"Whut d'ya mean ya canna stop'em?!" he paused on his contraption to roar at the smaller but still large Big Mek beside him, snarling as his mechanical cranium whirred and buzzed violently as if to emphasise his fury.

"I-I fink ya should give dem a look boss" he gestured to the horizon beyond them, a sea of green parting for men and women dressed as black as night and the intermingling soldiers of green and khaki that had taken up arms for what may have been the last time.

Nale knew that this was beyond the current Orky power he had as of now but he wouldn't concede that to a smaller, runtier Ork if he could help it. Instead he grunted and booted the Mek Nob onto his rear and hefted a Big Shoota from a nearby rack into his lap with a heavy 'clang'. "Better get out dere n' buy me some time den" he warned with no sign of budging on the subject.

The Nob knew to refuse was to have their infamous Mad Surgun go nuts with his body for the maybe twenty minutes before the Imperial Guard reached them.

He wisely ran with trigger held so tightly the metal began to creak from the force, roaring out 'DAKKA' repeatedly as Orks were so well known to.

Even a Snot knew that being melted via plasma, laser and melta fire was far more preferable than Mad Dok Gurglesnip getting even a minute alone with you.

"Bloody 'ell." Nale began clinking and clanking with his project with fervor, his time not at all what he'd wished for. "Mekboyz, grab yer guns n' sluggas and fight! Dokz, keep da Orkz fighting even if you have to put summit crazy in'em." he looked to Gurglesnip and smirked "Bring out da big gun"

* * *

"We're nearing the stronghold men! Stand strong and keep your trigger finger warm; we're going to need the Emperor's wrath and your faith to end this." roared the leftmost Commissar, his fellow officer currently dueling a group of four Nobz barely a metre from his position.

The Commander at the head of the lance continued to lay waste to his enemies with pathetic ease, his uniform tarnished a deep crimson with the blood of the thousands he alone had slain without missing a step forwards.

Morale rose higher and higher as three indomitable men strode forward with the lightest of wounds, their skill reminding them of the Super soldier Space Marines of the Imperium, perhaps more. But that just couldn't be right; these were mortal men...

They all watched wide-eyed as an Ork Stompa marched towards them-

"FIRE!"

and then as it plummeted in a smouldering ruin atop over a hundred Ork bodies as a barrage of several dozen different tanks opened fire simultaneously, eyes finding the raised arm of the Commander in signal, bombing runs following the chaos as he conducted his symphony of death.

The Guard shouldn't have this kind of power, not as unique soldiers. The Guard were hordes of bodies thrown into the fray until victory was forced. This was more akin to the ability of the Adeptus Astartes, but here they were, witness to it all.

Seconds became minutes and cheers echoed as the final Big Mek with Shoota clicking empty found himself impaled to the nearest workshop via Krieg Grenadier under Commissar order, the tip exploding seconds later in a fine red mist.

Their destination was within this final Ork Settlement. The Ork Guards were dead. The Nobz outside: dead. The turret Gretchin? Also dead.

If he hadn't run out of bombs cleansing the vast horde, he'd have simply ordered hell upon the fortress, but that was behind him now.

He'd make this personal.

"Fire" he said lowly with arm raised once more, his shadowing Stormblade's melting the heavy metal walls into liquid with astounding ease.

Goggles zeroed in on 'Ammer'n and he knew that with this, the war would end. His duties done with the saving of several tens of thousand Imperial lives.

But he had been foolish to think so.

"WAHAHAHAHA! WAAAUUUGHHHHHH!" realisation struck him and his most elite. Commissar and Grenadier screamed to disperse but they had no time.

And with the heaving screech of metal meeting metal, the Commander barely maneuvered himself aside just to bare witness to thousands of lives seared into nothing. A blast of proportions he recognised only from the machines this weapon had been torn from; the mighty Titan cannon from what must have been an Imperator or Warmonger class. Though where they managed to loot that he had no idea.

This Ork may be following a Warlord of proportions he hadn't even considered if they had something like this on hand.

A second blast followed the first and it became obvious that this was their last ditch effort here. He had to stop that.

Followed by his most loyal, he ran forward with unexpected speed in his haste, his sword butchering the Grots and Mekz manning the thing with reckless abandon, his men opening fire wherever they saw green to be extinguished even as the mouth continued to fire, swallowing more of his men with every word it spewed.

He silently awed at how the mighty weapon had yet to overheat but that was for later, for now he had to find the Mek manning this thing and tear him asunder. He could let Nale retreat for now, the lives of these people far more important.

A sickening gurgle spewed out from the last Ork to meet his blade before he found the makeshift cockpit, not even registering his opponent doping up for battle just to burst against the walls in a splatter of internals turned externals, the guilty party to his side with grenade launcher hissing after its last payload.

"Pardon me Sir but I believe that the Warboss is escaping" spoke the first Commissar as the second ushered all available bodies towards the stragglers.

"Probably" he muttered furiously, his anger reaching boiling point, his brothers in arms knowing him more than well enough to know that Nale had better be running _fast_ if he didn't want to end up worse than this Mek...

Either of his hands met the shoulders of his Commissar's and he stopped for but a moment to regard them "Vale, Atlas, Please make-"

Vale scoffed, "We'll clean up" he said warmly, far warmer than he had any right to be with the horrifying appearance they all shared: slick with blood and wearing the visage of a cold and unfeeling weapon in the Empire's name.

"You have Imperial's to avenge Sir" Atlas seconded, both Commissar's patting his back in a gesture towards his destination before roaring out their commands to their respective units, some to clean up and others to give chase in his current stead.

He went to leave at that moment but found a smaller Grenadier before him, recognising them instantly despite their completely obscured appearance.

Familial bonds one might say.

"Be careful brother" the girl muttered softly, curling against the fondness of his leather gloved digits against the side of her mask, a strange and distorted interpretation of a brother's love for his sister, masks aside.

"I have a duty to the Imperium as much as I do our family Sienna" he said softly.

She chuckled "That's your excuse but you just like playing the hero don't you?" he didn't respond to that but he at least had the decency to look somewhat sheepish in reply. Her smaller hands found his black metal chestplate and wiped the blood aside "You can't fool any of us you know" she stopped to smile up at him beneath the skull gas mask she proudly wore as a Grenadier Elite, "At least wear the family symbol proudly as you do it Jaune" she chuckled, hefting her grenade launcher back into place and marching off to the rest of her unit.

The Commander scoffed "I always do" he muttered as he left for duty, fingers idly grasping at the blood-smeared Arcs of gold on his chest.

* * *

"I wunna talk humie!" spat the Mek, his reply a burst of plasma taking his leg from his person, as was the merciless nature of the 666th Regiment of the Krieg Death Korps Elite. The Ork screams bellowed out from his lungs with force he had never considered he had, his second refusal to speak finding a cutlass lancing through his back and spearing him to the ground, a second crossing the first in an 'X' formation that allowed him no escape that didn't involve severing his person in two.

Jaune's first impression of the Warboss were his gurgled cries as his men efficiently tortured him with methods so brutal that only his Ork physiology could afford to undertake.

Practiced footfalls eventually placed him before the hulking mass of Ork and machine, kneeling down to meet the skewered Mek eye to mask. "Where did you get that Imperator cannon?" he asked easily.

"Ya fink I'm scared of yer little masks?" he spat, strangled, agonised wheezing barely escaping him as one Grenadier began to saw a chainsword through his armoured carapace, playing ignorant to the point his blade met flesh, brutally carving machinery and meat from the beast of a Greenskin.

The Commander meanwhile never let his eyes leave the Ork's, letting his men's frustration run wild on his new buddy patiently.

"How about now?" he asked after he caught his breath.

"Nev-"

"Melta guns" and like that all wounds were seared closed with focused melta fire, going the extra mile in liquidating a heavy amount of his back into itself and what scrap metal remained.

These men were well-trained, they knew how far to go and where to stop as not to kill an Ork like this one.

Jaune was proud of them.

The commander didn't even ask this time, knowing that he had the Mek where he needed him at this point. The boys and he knew how to run an interrogation, the instant you stop asking is when the panic really kicks in, feeling their only escape vanish.

That's when they start to grasp for it desperately.

"Okay! I'll talk.." he whimpered slightly and they all took notice of it. "Warboss Roklaw 'ad it and we'z made a gun outta it" he admitted "Says 'e got it az'a gift from Warlord frakk'ead..." he shook his head "Now lemme go!" he pleaded, and the nearest grenadier capitalised on their role.

"So unbecoming of a filthy Greenskin" she spat, pulling a powerblade knife out of a short sheath and sticking it into his neck, sawing it through slowly as if it had been serrated just to prolong his grizzly demise.

His body went limp, falling further against the swords that held him in place but she held his head high and proud as they cheered loudly, more following in the distance as every Imperial for miles echoed the cries of victory.

The Commander walked towards the Grenadier holding his head and scoffed lightly as she placed her knife back into her Arc-decorated sheath. "Always have to steal the final glory Ivory?" to be met with a light punch against his shoulder and a snide comment he filtered out as he heard a prominent beeping begin to emanate from the very Earth beneath them.

"What?!"

his eyes searched for anything and everything that could have caused this and he eventually settled on the now glowing green entity having appeared above them, crackling with the energy of what could only be the Warp.

"A Weirdboy?" he heard his sister question but he recognised this Ork in particular, a higher priority than Nale even.

"Yes and no." he looked on gravely as the workshop around them came to life at his will "That is the Weird Surgeon Gurglesnip. May the Emperor have mercy on us." and like that, the machinery and almighty force of the warp tore open the Universe around them and all became lost.

* * *

Darkness was all Jaune saw for a moment, finding his vision the moment he heard a girl scream to his left. Understandably so with how he looked in the crusting blood of his foes.

His eyes found the Gothic black and red dress of the small girl with short hair of similar colour scheme before turning to find the exact colour scheme in the man on his opposite side, and it didn't take more than a margin of an instant to realise this man had been threatening this innocent civvie.

time stopped as within the span of a half-second, this bloodied devil in black introduced the criminal to the ground _intimately_ making it more man than carpet.

His deathly visage fell upon the paler than pale little girl as he knelt down with hand extended in a manner so delicate that she simply couldn't see this man as evil despite looking like he'd just stepped out of a horror movie. She took the hand before having realised she'd done as much, silver eyes widening in realisation but silently reveling in the warmth and safety his presence _exuded_.

"I'm here to help, point me to the bad men" he questioned gently, following her outstretched index finger as she craned her neck to the redheaded man in white surrounded by more of those thugs.

Jaune stood tall and all eyes found the face of Krieg upon them in nary an instant. His voice low and wispy in threat.

"Hello bad men..."

* * *

 **Alright, well that's done; very little to say here in this instance but I'd like to know what you all think, every little detail because I want it all. How I can improve, how you think the story should go, any gaps in the narrative you think should be worked on (though there are cases where I have intentionally made gaps seem as such, but I'd still like you to point out wherever they're seen just in case), any additions you'd like to see or even pairings and the like.**

 **Originally this was gonna be an OC character before but I thought I'd follow the trend of making Jaune into everything under the Sun. Essentially an OC but also shines through with parts of Jaune's character.**

 **You'll bear witness to his awkwardness on occasion as well I promise you.**

 **But yeah, please shout your opinions from the rooftops (Or via PM or Review) and if well received; you'll be seeing more soon I assure you.**

 **Au revoir for now Readers ^^**


	2. Chapter 1 - Remnant

The Headmaster of Beacon calmly strode into a small room kindly provided by the Valean Police Forces at his behest, steaming mug in hand. He gave a small nod and smile to his amazing assistant Miss Goodwitch, pulling out his chair and placing himself upon it. And as he brought his steaming mug towards his lips just to draw his introduction out to his newest interest...

He knew that as always, his enigmatic, infamous presence would surely have the other at a loss for words.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked smugly, hiding his smirk behind mug.

"No. Where are the frontlines?"

...

Seconds almost became minutes with the lapse that followed, and a quick glance to his side found that Glynda was far more visibly shocked by such a response, mouth agape and Riding Crop dropped to the ground with a silence-breaking clatter.

Ozpin cleared his throat, hiding his thoughts behind that implacable poker face of his, taking in the sight of the Krieg Commander before him.

Not that he knew what Krieg was, nor what this man truly measured to.

"Excuse me Mr...?" he trailed off for the other to inform.

The masked Arc stood suddenly from his seat, the handcuffs chaining him to the table creaking loudly and bringing the table a few inches off of the ground with the suddenness of it.

He idly watched Glynda stumble for her weapon of choice in what had been a failed attempt of composedly reacting to what may have been an act of aggression towards the Headmaster, finding it had simply been a militaristic form of introduction on the others part.

He also noted the force displayed by the other in absentmindedly ripping a weighted metal table up as he had, apparently more give in the _bolts_ nailing it to the ground than the partially broken contraptions locking him to it.

"Commander Jaune Arc of the 666th Regiment of the Death Korps of Krieg; here to fight and die at the Emperor's word, Sir" he said monotonously, the lines well-practiced and impactful despite the cold tone to his voice.

He was resigned to death it seemed, though for who it was for he had no idea. Perhaps Emperor had been code name for a leader just like he named his 'players' and enemies in his scheme after Chess pieces? He'd milk more information as he went along, for now he had other questions.

"You called me 'Sir'." he noted "You said with finality that you had no idea who I was."

The other almost imperceptibly tilted his head to the side, a small sign of curiosity "Are you not Inquisition? You don't look Military but you have this aura of knowledge and authority about you" he explained, apparently a perceptive one if not a little presumptuous. "You also need a mighty amount of authority to be ordering an Imperium Regiment Commander about" the air seemed to drop several degrees at the icy tone he employed "To lock me up for questioning without rank or permission to do so will be dealt with as treason." he warned, Glynda now raising her weapon readily this time around, even if she looked as pale as he felt at such a threat.

Luckily he was immovable; the fear was quelled through willpower alone.

The Headmaster weighed his options carefully in the span of the few seconds it took the Commander to explain the situation, his brilliant mind working in overdrive to stop any potential altercation here.

Fortunately for all, he was a mastermind.

"I am Headmaster Ozpin of Beacon and I am the leading authority here" he began "I don't know who you or your 'Regiment' are, but you acted appropriately in allowing us to question you in such circumstances" and they all knew at this point that the soldier could break his holds on a whim, showing his desire not to exact violent means in his restraint. "I hypothesize that you are not familiar with Vale" he watched the man twitch at the name and sensed recognition "Am I incorrect?"

Jaune leant forward, hands slamming against the table audibly "Vale is here?" he wondered.

Glynda nodded confusedly, holding his masked visage with her emerald green eyes as he whirled on her movement "Yes, you are currently in Vale." she explained, seeing the fire in his attitude falter at that.

"Apologies but... _in_ Vale?" he emphasised the 'in' part excessively to their muted confusion.

"Yes, the city of Vale." Ozpin took his second sip, slightly put off by the drop in temperature in his beverage, a rarity to keep him from his drink indeed "One of the four Kingdoms?" he added at the end, once more seeing nothing from the masked man who just kept his gaze evenly.

"Ah" he said in resignation, only adding to their puzzlement "So Vale is an independent nation." he muttered aloud it as if simply monologuing for his own understanding.

The Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress shared a quick glance before the latter nodded his way once more "Yes, one of Remnant's four bastions." she elaborated, stern facade long gone in favour of inquisitiveness.

The figure slowly settled back into his chair at this point, Ozpin recognising a thoughtful look in how he brought his arms into himself, one gloved hand cupping his armoured chin gently. "And Remnant is a... country?" a shake of the witches head "Continent?" a repeat and the man exhaled heavily "So a planet." he didn't even register the affirmative from them both, having already concluded as much.

They allowed him his thoughts for a while, giving him time to mull this apparently new knowledge over. "Which galaxy are we in?" he suddenly questioned, two pairs of eyes going as wide as saucers.

"G-galaxy?!" the blonde stumbled.

The Wizard of Beacon pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and then proceeded to drain the last of his mug ruefully. "I'm afraid human and Faunas have been warring with the Grimm and one another for so long that interstellar research never came to be beyond observatory's, and even then we can only hypothesize on there being more planets out there." he explained, a crease in his brow now as the other stiffened up "Is it safe to assume that you are of the mind to believe such theories of planets somewhere beyond our current realm of knowing?" truly this was curious, and how it tied in here he didn't know, but if this individual had knowledge beyond Remnant for whatever reason then he would very much like to know just how and why.

The other was quiet for a long while, even the Headmaster's patience beginning to wane as he began to process the severity of just what his words had upon the mask-wearing individual. "You're serious." he stated with finality, his tone grim and low, Ozpin seeing Glynda shuffle forward silently and took it as her having been oblivious to his words, only his tone audible.

The soldier palmed his face and released a heavy breath, and Ozpin felt the weight of it even as he silently observed the others expressions through the added difficulty of his concealed features. "What planets do you know of as of yet then?" and Glynda answered for him without missing a beat

"We have the planet of Remnant and our moon" she clarified, "And whether the moon qualifies is another matter, what with how it fragments and restructures itself over the course of months and years." Ozpin took the initiative in clarifying

"The word 'planet' seems to mean more to you than it does to the people of Remnant. Here, the term is the placeholder for a vague theory on there being other celestial bodies beyond Remnant's grasp." he watched the other clench his fists audibly "You throw the word around easily, whereas here you could go your whole life without hearing the word even once." Ozpin went to take another swig of his mug before remembered its emptied contents, regretting his shortsightedness on just how long this interaction would last. Regardless he would have to finish his point here "So why is that _Commander Arc_?"

The air in the room became stale as the Headmaster finally capitalised on the elephant in the room; neither he and definitely not Glynda had heard of these 'Death Korps' let alone the 665 Regiments presumably before his own. The situation needed clarifying because the Wizard of Beacon hadn't been at such a loss in a long, _long_ time.

The other held his tongue for a long time, fingers idly drumming against the table to break the rooms silence. And after a long time had passed, the Headmaster took the initiative, but was beaten to it the instant he opened his mouth

"What knowledge have you of our glorious Emperor?"

Ozpin narrowed his eyes slightly. The soldier uttered the term with true reverence. Honestly, it was quite astounding how much passion was carried in that single word. But, he had been asked a question and far be it from him not to answer.

"We've never heard of any 'Emperor'." he supplied "Nor have we had any sort of true ruler for a long time: Kings, Queens, _Emperors._ All no longer have a place in the world of Remnant."

More silence, as had become the norm here.

"You speak Low Gothic" he hunched forward, hands clasped tightly together and visage directed at them both "Why do you speak the tongue of the Imperium yet know _nothing_ of the very foundation that keeps Humanity fighting, _living_." he spat, grasping wildly for anything to recognise at this point.

Glynda shook her head "We speak the common tongue of Remnant. All nations have mixes of their own tongue: Mistralian, Atlesean and Vacuan alongside dying languages from less prominent civilizations lost to time. But almost without exception; Valean is known by all."

Something seemed to click in the other, bowing his head to his clasped palms and muttering something under his breath before acknowledging them once more with determination set in on whatever decision he had made. "I can assume you're in charge?" Ozpin nodded. "Then I will comply. What will you do with me Headmaster?"

Ozpin smirked behind his hands.

* * *

"I can't believe my little sister is coming with me to Beacon!"

"Pleash shtop..."

Yang ignored the plea for a few seconds longer, cuddling the life out of her adorable little sister until she had her fill.

"Now come on, aren't you excited? You get to go to Beacon two years early! You're the bees knees!" the redhead flinched at the word

"But I don't wanna be special Yang! I wanna be a normal _girl_ with normal _knees_!"

"But you _are_ special Ruby." her sister declared proudly.

she pouted up a storm at that and muttered lowly "I don't want to stand out." she looked around after that, hoping that nobody had overheard their little conversation, nor the attention that would inevitably come with it.

Ruby couldn't talk to people, let alone take the spot as centre of attention.

Thankfully their attention seemed to be focused elsewhere "I don't think you have to worry about that Ruby." she heard her sister chuckle, following her line of sight to just what everybody seemed to be glancing at.

That of course was the black leather and armour-clad agent of Death stood overlooking the city below them from the ship to Beacon, hands folded neatly behind his back and stance immaculate. Of course to most, the men of Krieg were nightmare fuel to witness outside the battlefield where they fought tooth, nail and whatever the hell else they could throw into the equation just so that you wouldn't have to.

And perhaps, even to Ruby he once had been just as well.

Now though..

"Oh! Oh!" she began intelligently, jumping lightly on the spot and pointing as she did "That's the guy Yang! That's the guy who punched Roman Torchwick in his stupid face!" she declared loudly, face going as red as her cloak as her outburst earned all eyes in the room, whispers and proclamations swimming about at this newly divulged information on the mysterious entity aboard the Bullhead.

Yang herself was taking in the being's appearance, going through the usual thoughts as most do, but recognising the obvious lack of crusted crimson on his outfit as Ruby had mentioned in passing. He hadn't reportedly killed or grievously injured anybody as far as she knew news-wise so perhaps the blood thing was exaggerated or presumptuous of them. Maybe he was even-

"He looks like a Hunter Yang" Ruby finished her thought with sparkling eyes, Yang smirking and making headway with her blushing, protesting sister in tow towards the man. If her sister wouldn't talk then she'd break the ice for her.

Yang was good like that.

"Hey you!" they stopped barely a metre from him, still holding Ruby by her wrist even as she hid behind her taller sibling for the most part. Neither could really help themselves from admiring the militaristic look to the man, the warred scars covering his attire, both metal and leather giving way to scratches, burrs and burns. They watched as his faceless visage watched out over the city, the solemn look he had in his stance and presence beyond an inner feeling of comfort in the passion and determination he radiated.

He turned to them slowly. Patiently. This man who had countless years of experience with hell beyond their realm of understanding. They recognised knowledge, wisdom and strength in his being, but they couldn't quite place it. He reminded them of their father, of their uncle even moreso.

All they knew was that he was not like anything they knew, just from a glance.

They were too naive too consider the depths of just what they were up against with him.

"Greetings Ruby Rose" he said simply, saluting lightly to them both and fixing his gaze upon Yang "And you are?"

"Yang" she had no small amount of surprise in her tone, ignoring her sister jumping at him having known her name in favour of considering just how light and friendly his voice was in comparison to his appearance. It was airy and smooth, even if a little stern and distorted from his military background and the mask he wore. Still, it was unexpected "My name is Yang Xiao Long: Ruby's older sister"

He chuckled softly and bowed his head lightly "A pleasure" he gestured an open palm towards Ruby "Your sister fights well. For her age, she is truly quite remarkable indeed."

Ruby began to sputter and blush at the praise, 'psh' and 'nah' noises emanating from her in abundance to both of their amusement.

Fortunately, she gathered herself given time "I'm not that great, you put down those baddies even without your weapon! All like 'pow!' and 'kachaw!' and-and..." she cleared her throat awkwardly, realising that she had once again punctuated her already dorky fighting noises with karate actions and the like.

She was practically steaming from the heat rising to her cheeks at this point.

The Krieg soldier laughed "And you went crazy with a scythe taller than you. They had no idea how to react!" he chuckled "And if I'm not mistaken..." he pensively brought his thumb and forefinger to his chin, considering her a little closer for but a moment "was that a sniper rifle attachment your gun had?"

With a loud gasp, Ruby greedily sucked in as much air as she could at the recognition, spouting out weapon terms like a madman at the first hint of recognition to her baby.

Yang chuckled softly, ready to apologise for her sisters antics only to be pleasantly surprised by how instead of laughing or shying away from the reaper, the soldier instead seemed to nod, absorb and even add his own opinions to what her sister was spouting.

The two went at their talk for almost the entire trip back and she couldn't help but smile fondly at the defeated look the smaller girl adopted when the enigma had to say his farewell for whatever reason, once more bowing lightly as he made headway away from the rest of the students.

The two walked in silence for a while longer, one looking slightly bummed out and the other grinning like a madman. "So..." she nudged her sister with her elbow "You make a boyfriend?" her toothy grin would make the Cheshire Cat envious.

"Yaaang!" her response was as adorable and nervous as she had hoped, her sister continuing to have the easiest buttons to push to embarrass. "He's just nice okay? Besides, he's probably old enough to be my dad right?" they both idly took a moment to consider that, nothing to really go on beyond his apparent experience, formality and presumed time in the 'field', though mistakenly assuming that was as a Huntsman and not as an intergalactic soldier elite.

From appearance, Yang would guess anywhere from late 20's to early 40's maybe? It was nigh impossible to put an age to such a 'face' really.

So how did he know your name by the way?" she questioned curiously.

"Ozpin told him after he spoke with me apparently. Said they spoke about some stuff and then he asked for my name."

"Oh? Is he pining after you too Rubes? Wouldn't have thought you'd have 'daddy' preferences honestly" she quipped snidely, watching Ruby simultaneously set her face aflame as well as go as green as an Ork's ass at the implication.

"YANG!"

* * *

Jaune groaned as he stretched his arms out, doffing his pauldrons, chestplate and wrist-guards so that he could drop his overcoat, doing so quickly and efficiently but also neatly as he had long-since learned through necessity. People thought Cadian's were the best for donning, doffing, field-stripping their weapons and jury-rigging but he'd beg to differ.

'Cadian's could field-strip a rifle at 10?' he chuckled idly to himself "That's cute."

Now without his armour or overcoat, he began to take the armour plating from his legs and waist, as well as his boots, placing everything down gently and away from one another, having heard the bench creak from the combined weight when he'd piled it together. Apparently the people of Remnant carried light if even this much was hefty to them. He dropped his Hellpistol, power sword and cartridges down and then his Hellgun from his back, appreciating the lack of need of a backpack for the unique weapon.

His eyes went to the mirror to his left then, looking at his barefooted form, feeling so... nude without the full weight of his battlegear. He still had a tank top on and form-fitting pants and of course his mask and Commanders cap but it never felt enough.

Honestly, outside of the rare chance to bathe outside of weeks, months and years of battle, he almost came to forget what he looked like bare. Under his overalls, armour plating, overcoat and cloak, he already felt naked. So removing his tank top to reveal his muscular and equally scarred upper body was something he hadn't truly taken in since his early youth.

He at least remembered getting the Arc tattoo and his regiment number in High Gothic on his chest.

But when was the last time he'd even had access to a mirror? He got clean as a duty not to die from filth-related diseases, he hadn't had time to mind his appearance. Other officers and higher ups thought that unusual but they weren't Krieg-men. He knew the faces of his family, of his trusted Commissar's Atlas and... Vale - still weird to think that this place was named the same as one of his two closest comrades. But he wore a mask, as did all of his men. They were Death Korps and they only earned penance in death.

Of course their planet wasn't without love, he loved his sisters, and of course they and he wouldn't have come about without the meeting of his parents and their passion for one another. With how many soldiers Death Korps lost a day, they would have to equal that in birth rates if not outnumber, so he knew the needs of being and appearing attractive to the other sex was necessary for survival.

But that just wasn't really for him, even with his sisters constantly recommending soldiers and officers his way because they'd said this or that.

He was a sublime leader because he had the men to back it up. He was a powerful soldier because he'd spent so much perfecting himself.

He had spent no time appearing the perfect male specimen, so it was inevitable he was naive to the subject.

He removed his cap and began to unclip his mask, hesitating as he did so. This would be the last time he'd wear this mask for a while he realised, the Headmaster having made his point on negative emotion and how it affected the 'Grimm' that seemingly plagues this world; the Headmaster had explained it all extensively. The mask and the man wearing it would exacerbate that. The 'Death Korps' hardly inspires safety here as it had on Nyle.

He clipped it off and placed it gently upon his folded coat, slowly panning his eyes from it and to the mirror, walking over and placing a hand against it.

"I have blue eyes" like his sisters all had: gorgeous crystalline blue. They reminded him of his mother. Well with the exception of the twins of course, they had dads emerald. His fingers traced his golden locks, neatly cut since Glynda refused to budge on the subject once she saw the sweat-matted, untrimmed mop he'd had beforehand, the result of over a week of exertion on the battlefield. Most often he just cleaned his clothing and not the person beneath them.

He took in his features and scrunched his face up at what he saw. His complexion was pale he thought, naturally because of his mask, but not really as pale as you'd imagine from a face that never really met the light. He penned it down to Krieg genes since he shared the same complexion as any other he'd met. Honestly, he looked more tanned than Ruby or Yang had, even Ozpin or Glynda were paler than he so he guessed that wasn't a concern.

His jaw was bereft of any stubble, also due to Glynda's quest neatening him up. He rubbed a hand across his jawline and idly wondered if he could be considered 'handsome', maybe 'rugged'? He truly had no idea. A strong, squared jaw and firm musculature across his person but delicacy in his hair and eyes, his cheekbones giving him a light appearance, a friendly one, lips naturally fitting into a slight incline; a sign he smiled often. That was penned down to his family; both by blood and in arms.

He was handsome, rugged and neatly presented with Glynda's assistance. Tough but gentle simultaneously, and he couldn't really fathom that. It was just a face to him: his face.

"Bah, I'm burning daylight." he noticed, taking his eyes away from the first real encounter with himself, instead opting to place all of his belonging in the large metal footlocker he'd been provided by Ozpin.

He only had until Ozpin's speech ended he knew, and then he'd be required to find and sleep amongst the rest of them. That was fine honestly, he bunked with his men all of the time. Of course, 'men' implied the women of the unit too, they were all sensible adults.

Adult.

By the emperor, how old was he now? He was declared a soldier at 14 and had been fighting as one less legally since he was 9, sneaking off to fire potshots and acclimate himself with combat and firearms for a couple years beyond that too. Krieg soldiers lived to fight and die, and the mask just made it that much easier to pretend you were old enough to hold arms. The Imperium knew they did, and they had never cared enough to stop them; turn a blind eye as it was.

He was grateful for their understanding, even if most would scorn the act.

He guessed that from how he looked he was nearing the ends of puberty, but years vanished to him long ago, replaced by war and conflict. 'I fought a war five battles ago' so to speak, and that could be the equivalent of three weeks maybe? Age meant little to the Krieg men, hence why he lead men twice his age into battle on a daily basis, and why they respected that wholeheartedly. His sense of chronology was askew to say the least, but when Ozpin wrote his file down he took notice that he put him in as a first year regardless of his little lapse in recollection. He could be the oldest of the group by years and not known it, but he needed to learn as they did if this was where he'd be surviving for the time it'd take for him to find his way back to his men.

But now he was faced with a different dilemma he realised.

"I refuse to wear this fucking thing..." he said as he stared down heatedly at the admittedly soft bunny onesie.

He weighed his options and then sighed as he came to a realisation.

"That guy wanted this to happen didn't he?" he palmed his face defeatedly.

When he got back he'd really have to recommend this guy as an Inquisitor.

* * *

"I still can't believe you blew up..." The blonde went down with a well-placed pillow toss from the young Rose.

"Yang! It was an accident..." she puffed out her cheeks, "Besides, who shakes around a half-open bottle of fire dust around? It was inevitable!"

Yang just continued to laugh her lungs out at her sister for a while longer before taking a look around outside of the portion of the ballroom they'd taken up between the two of them. "It's like a big sleepover." she observed.

Ruby clicked her tongue as she continued to write to her friends "Don't think dad would appreciate all the boys though..."

Yang scoffed and ate up any eye candy she saw, though it was a little off-putting at how vainly they attempted to flaunt their budding musculature. She'd say it was pathetic but as a teenage girl she couldn't deny that she at least appreciated it "I know I do..." and then she went quiet.

Ruby continued writing her letter for a good while, and even though her sisters sudden silence was appreciated, she couldn't deny that it was at the least peculiar. "Yang?" she saw her sister staring wide-eyed and slightly open-mouthed at something and humored her by following her line of sight, her pencil dropping numbly from her grip as she caught just what had broke her sister.

6ft 2in of blonde Adonis dressed in lounge pants and a tank top that fit his form so perfectly that it only added to the obvious curvature of his cut, carved structure. Neither girl had any idea how but this apparent 17 year old had a body that made the others look like runts.

He kept a stony face as he walked to his destination, but he had a sort of regal appearance about him: rugged, tough, and his golden hair just complimented the cut sapphire of his eyes perfectly.

Ruby calmed down first and looked to her sister, still ogling the fellow.

"Yang, he's good-looking but come on..." she groaned.

Yang simply laughed a little creepily "I'd _really_ like to ' _Yang_ ' out with that hunk" she practically purred, her body swallowed by a mass of pillows immediately afterwards.

"YANG!"

"Be quiet! Can't you see that people are trying to sleep?!"

Oh no...

* * *

Jaune wasn't bothered by being in the same room as men and women probably his junior, no he'd already made his peace with that since he was used to it as a soldier.

Or at least he thought he was...

These people were eyeing him like predators! The soldiers back in Krieg never did that, granted he usually wasn't forced into wearing this little through the convoluted methods of that damned Headmaster.

Inquisitor or servant of Tzeentch, he didn't know which role he fit better, nor which he'd prefer.

Daemons were bad, the Inquisition really wasn't all that great to encounter for the majority either he'd admit.

Either way, he calmly strode through the room, his battle-senses blaring at the eyes stabbing his person, as much as he strived to ignore them.

"Ignore them and they'll go away..." he muttered lowly under his breath.

Eventually, he settled against a wall, as far away as he could really get from prying eyes.

The seconds it took him to set up his granted sleeping bag gave him time to notice the girl with eyes of amber and hair darker than the uniform of his Regiment. She had gorgeously pale skin, the moon reflecting off of her person like she were a celestial, the subtle hints of eyeliner only accentuating the dark bow atop her head and the stylish Kimono she wore.

Not that he knew what a Kimono was.

He could admire that she was truly beautiful, but then, so too had he noticed the same in Yang and Ruby; both in personality and appearance. Of course, Ruby still had some growing up to do, what with being two years younger than the majority.

Yang with her flowing mane of searing fire and the calm in those purple eyes that seemed so eager to flare into something more at a moments notice. Fair skin and a confident gait that just had people flocking to her. She was somewhat tomboyish in her attire but he saw that she was more feminine than she may like to admit. He would like to speak with her again for sure.

Then there was Ruby. From all that he could say about the others, for her he could sum it all up as 'cute', he daresay. Cute. Not a word that often came up in his life, maybe a couple times in relation to the youngest of his sisters, Sienna and Ivory so close to him in age that he could hardly remember them being small enough to have called them as such.

In contrast to his sisters with their incredible eyes of blue or green; Ruby had the unusual but mesmerizing gaze of silver, her eyes like shining moons. He was no poet but of all the planets he'd strode across, and all the moons he had witnessed, the two in Ruby's head were by far his favourite. Add to that her budding heroism and chirpy nature, not to mention her passion for weaponry and she really didn't fall behind either Yang nor this girl in capturing his attention.

Not to say in a romantic-sense, he could admire beauty but he had no intention to seek it out.

His attention went to the book in the bow-wearing girls hands, naturally something he had never heard of and that brought an interesting idea to him.

When in times of peace between missions, and sometimes during, Jaune liked to take up any free time with literature, though of course the majority was based on the history of the Imperium and the like. Now he had a world of literature to consider, and that he could admit was an appealing thought.

"Can I help you?" she asked, her tone slightly irritated and her eyes never leaving her book, though he was perceptive enough to notice the way her eyes no longer read the lines of the page, even if she tried to make it seem so.

It was a mask of indifference.

"Not help, no" his tone was calm, and as he leant his back against the wall she too was against, he stared forward so as not to make her feel obligated to meet his eyes. "I was just looking at the book you were reading."

"Right." he caught her eyes rolling in his peripherals but she had been safe t assume he wouldn't have, his perception very high calibre. More than likely, she assumed his intentions weren't quite so innocent. He couldn't fault her, what with the other boys flexing their arms and play-wrestling like fools "So what? A book you've read?" she humored.

"Never heard of it, nor its Author." he admitted honestly and she scoffed, but he continued heedlessly "The Blurb mentions a story of a man with two souls and a war of will between the two. To me, it seems like it's personifying how two opposite beings can struggle to come together at times, obvious differences tearing rifts in moral decency." he had heard about the Faunas from Ozpin, about the White Fang. The Imperium may have been small-minded and tended to despise anything that wasn't human, but that was in his Universe where abhuman's and Xenos wanted you extinct without exception. In this world, the Faunas were as different to Humanity as a Krieg soldier was to a Cadian.

"It's like the Faunas and the Human's" her attention was on him at this point, but he wasn't saying this for her sake. Regardless, she was enraptured. "The differences between them are so subtle, but at face-value you forget moral decency and push it aside, and that becomes something more." he shook his head vehemently "In a world taken by an enemy such as the Grimm, it was the last thing Remnant needs. We have brothers and sisters everywhere the eyes can see, and when Humanity can learn to accept the embrace of their Faunas sibling." he smiled wistfully "Then perhaps true peace can come to be."

He didn't know why he said it, and he forgot just when exactly his opinion of the book became about the world itself and its wrongs but he stood by it.

His family always said he had a strong sense of justice, that he couldn't see wrongdoing go without correcting.

"Maybe you're right..." she said with a soft smile in his direction, their eyes meeting for the first time that night. He met her smile with his own, because if he was going to be stuck on Remnant for however long...

"I hope so" then he'd make it his mission to save this world with whatever power he had whilst he could.

* * *

 **Near 6k words in this chapter, and I'm releasing it now just to get the story rolling. Ideally I'd hold onto it for a week or so but I'm always so eager to get my stories going, and every review is a little kick to keep me enthusiastic about it.**

 **So please, take some time to review if you can, it keeps me going and it hardly takes a minute. I'll be sure to reply if it needs it, it's always nice to talk to people under such circumstances.**

 **Hope the chapter was to your liking, the fighting really kicks off next chapter, and you'll see just what Krieg men can do in Remnant.**

 **Now, because it was mentioned in one comment I will point out one thing. Jaune was strong in _his_ world, and as a human he is very strong here. That said, Jaune also has no aura and by extension no semblance, and as of yet hasn't been compared to anybody using theirs. Beyond that, he has weaponry that runs on energy this world has no access to, meaning beyond a couple cartridges and battery's, his Hellgun's and Power sword are like temporary buffs in case of emergency.**

 **I don't want to spoil anything but I hope that alleviates any concerns of 'overpowered' Jaune. If you do have any more concerns then pop me a message or Review and I'll respond ASAP, same for if you have any ideas you'd like to throw my way, however outlandish they may seem.**

 **I mean, who knows if he's the only one who made it to Remnant...**

 **Follow, fave, review, stay beautiful.**

 **Au Revoir for now Readers.**


	3. Chapter 2 - Ready Up

The large cafeteria was bereft of almost all noise, only filled with the subtle sizzling of breakfast foods and clattering of plates and cutlery in the distance. Jaune had been one of the first to arrive here, what with his usual body clock at play. Even amongst his men he tended to be first to rise, starting morning drills early by his lonesome until the soldiers naturally awoke barely minutes later to tag along until what was essentially the entire unit moved as one.

With his morning routine aside; he decided it was time to dig into this world's cuisine.

...

It was better than anything he'd ever known existed. This 'bacon' was so unlike anything he had ever tasted, same with the 'sausages' and 'eggs'. How in his entire, expansive universe had he never come across anything but bricks crafted just to keep the men functioning when this apparently existed outside of his grasp?

It must be bad for you, it's the only explanation why they wouldn't let his men at it.

Or the universe was full of zealous pricks and such things as pleasure was for the most part lost to them.

But he was one of those zealous pricks, and he'd sooner give up bacon before he'd give up even a fraction of the devotion he had towards Humanity and their God Emperor.

And.. Faunas too maybe? He knew a Space Marine would smite them on sight, so would a Sister and Grey Knight. In hindsight, maybe he was just the odd one in the equation, though he'd like to think his Regiment would do the same for the most part? Surely the Emperor couldn't expect damnation of an innocent race such as the Faunas? There were extremists amongst them of course, but so were the humans in this world.

Unlike his Universe, they weren't forced to unify under the threat of utter annihilation. Of course, that didn't do much to stop Krieg from revolting just to fall to war and intense nuclear fire until they really began to realise the error of their ways.

Whoever decided it was wise to kick the Hornet's nest that is the Imperium is an idiot of unimaginable proportions. Jaune wishes he could've been the one to look him in the eyes as he pulled the trigger, or worse. He had no mercy for those who brought the curse of the Death Korps upon them.

He was only grateful to the Emperor for the chance to redeem the wrongdoings of their predecessors.

His teeth met the metal of his fork and it only now occurred to him that he had already finished demolishing his meal during his mental stroll. A quick clean up and return of the dishes later and he decided it was time for him to get acquainted with the better part of his deal with Ozpin.

* * *

"So this gun has a near-endless supply of an optic laser superior to anything we have on Remnant just as long as you don't overheat it and give it ample time to recharge itself?"

Jaune blinked, hands clasped behind his back as he watched the Quartermaster of Beacon speak her unsurprisingly skeptical thoughts aloud. He nodded once prompted "That is correct from start to finish."

She watched him for a while longer, taking the time to give her the ocular patdown as she did: The woman was a perfect example of inescapable Faunas traits he could tell; nothing subtle such as feet or a tail, both concealable beneath the right attire, no, Forgemaster Maine had the traits of a more reptilian species it seemed; eyes narrowed into slits with forest green backdrop - noting the expressive nature in them he'd have assumed she'd have lacked in theory with the supposed cold-blooded aspect, nice to know that the traits weren't quite as exact as the species they derived from - as well as the burnt umber scales just barely contrasting the scorched brown of her skintone, something he'd imagine the fires of the forge were partly to blame for.

Beyond that, the woman was fairly short in stature at 5ft 6in, her build slim if not for the obvious muscle outlining her entire frame, more than he'd seen on any of the other women he'd had the pleasure of meeting thus far, no doubt a result of years working around such heavy duty conditions as the forge. He also caught traces of callouses upon her palms and slight blemishes in the form of burnt scars along her hands and forearms, something he hoped she wore with pride as a pariah of weaponry for the new generations as they come.

All in all, despite the tomboyish way she carried herself in, both posture and attire which consisted of a smithy apron and grimy overalls, he'd admit that the woman was attractive in a way he hadn't seen in the others; her face framed nicely by the messy bob of hazel locks twisting in every direction upon her head.

Plus the way her face scrunched up like it was now really highlighted the adorable freckles on her cheeks and nose.

He idly grieved that his trip to Remnant bore his first and fourth glimpses into the marvels of the opposite sex within the span of 24 hours. Maybe he really had been too familiar with the women of his life if it took all of this for him to just pay attention to one and seemingly all of them as they came along.

Anyway, he digressed. "Seems like something Atlas would try for. Looks vaguely Atlesian. Is it Atlas-make?" Jaune ignored the barrage of 'Atlas' themed inquiries as he reminisced upon the visage of his trusted comrade as he battled Eldar Harlequins beside Vale and himself, power swords meeting the cries and blades of the older race as their Grenadiers stormed the battlefield with laser fire to meet their Shuriken hail. Good times.

But he also realised she clearly hadn't mentioned his Commissar and rather meant the Kingdom. Honestly, that there was not just one but two Kingdoms on this planet that shared the names of his men was still something he was trying to comprehend.

"It is not Atlesian, no" he saw the frown she adopted and offered her a simple shrug for her unspoken bafflement "I assure you I'm not lying ma'am" it also felt weird to call a young woman still fairly fresh out of Beacon school-life ma'am.

She was... what? Maybe 26 he'd guess?

She had him beat in Terran years but he'd wager he still had more years of life-demanding service under his belt.

age was but a number however, hence why he had long since stopped putting a number to his age. It was lost to time and he'd have lived and died just fine with that. Now he was declared 17 by Ozpin and the records forged under his name just to make him appear of this world.

it was oddly pleasing to know he had words to his name here, false though they may be. Ozpin has made the effort to intermingle whatever truths he could into his backstory; his parents and siblings having been separated from him through Grimm-related conflict. It was decent enough for him, this world and it's expansive lost wilds making it easy to fabricate the existence of supposed frontier towns such as 'his'. The story was vague but it was made well enough that you couldn't really poke holes into it. He had no idea where his family was and Ozpin himself vouched to know of their existence, making it incredibly difficult to dispute.

and he'll admit he preferred referring to his sisters as missing than dead as the story may have demanded anyway. He hoped Ivory was alright, having been so close to the origin of the warps opening as he had been, wishing the same for his Elite Grenadiers troops; Derris, Vawn, Kellog and Shen just to make a few, a good leader knowing the value of every man he held responsibility for, both as a person and as an instrument of the Emperor's wrath.

He left his thoughts behind, he was here to talk about a weapon after all.

"Well it looks like the charge packs are a little damaged" she lifted it up high with strength he had admittedly assumed she lacked, her easily proving otherwise. "I'd wager they'll only live through another couple firefights at best, and that's if you're lucky" she levelled her forest green eyes on his ocean blue "I can have a whack at fixing it but even I've never quite seen something like this." She moved it about some more "I've seen laser and plasma based weaponry but nothing this... this?" She was at a bit of a loss to describe it he could tell, the weapon itself not overly complex in design, but impossible to replicate on this world. She didn't seem to like admitting her lack of knowledge on the matter, one who took pride of her abilities in the forge.

she'd fit in with the Adeptus Mechanicus if not for her flesh and bone vessel. She'd need far more machinery in her to get near Forge World Mars, that's for sure.

"If you can just see what you can do about it, that's more than I could hope to ask for" he said with a small smile, chuckling as she moved and messed with the cartridge much like a kitten batting around a ball of yarn "The sword and pistol?"

she stopped to give him a grimace "The pistol is pretty buggered to be frank; I'd need to completely reverse-engineer the thing if you need it, and if Ozpin will send more funding this way rather than on his and the faculty's coffee addiction..." she muttered the last part under her breath. "The cartridge for it is also a big issue since I had to shut the thing down, the structure cracked deep enough that I was concerned it would begin to emit radiation or react with the air around it. For all I know it could have gone off like a megaton bomb with the apparent endless supply of energy it contains." He couldn't fault her there but he wasn't pleased at the sight of the mess of a Hellpistol he was apparently left with, the barrel twisted to an almost 90 degree angle and the frame depressed into itself so much that it couldn't hope to survive a single pull of the trigger.

Seriously, fuck that Weirdboy.

"And the sword?" Honestly of all his equipment, his sword was the mine concern of his. His armour seemed fine for the most part, only slight marring on the metal plating. However, it did a number on his guns and he just hoped his sword came out unscathed.

she produced the blade and he breathed out a sigh of relief to see it was in pristine condition "The blade is perfectly fine, so is the handle and pommel. Honestly, I'm surprised with the treatment the rest of your equipment got, the thing is made of almost impossibly hard stuff" he nodded in acknowledgement at that, knowing that the Arc heirloom was amongst the most renowned weapons amongst the entirety of Krieg. Hell, if you told him that Crocea Mors had more kills to its name than the vast majority of the company's tanks he wouldn't even bat an eye. "The doohickey here though, that shorted out and... I don't think there's much hope salvaging _that_ kind of tech, the thing broke the buildings fuse when I tried to jump start it." She said with clear frustration.

And there was the trade off. The 'doohickey' was what made the thing a power weapon to begin with, otherwise it was just a sword. A sword made of material so rare that it was literally named Arcamentium after his family for being the ones to discover it. Beyond it, he was sure there wasn't enough to make more than another sword or dagger more, so rare was the stuff. They theorised it was something to do with the nuclear fire bathing the materials for long enough to harden them or something of the sort but the blade emitted no radiation, hence the addition of the power battery generations ago.

He sighed to himself "Don't worry about it; would you be able to strip it down to just the sword in that case?" she nodded with a small smirk and began tinkering right away.

And now, as he walked down the corridor after but ten minutes later, he couldn't help but feel that he'd make it through this just fine. He patted his new plain sheath - the last being converted to scrap - and the still impeccable blade inside, now stripped of anything but its Arcamentium bones.

"Well I may need to bring you back to your former glory at some point but for now..." he chuckled "For now we'll be fine."

* * *

The bustle of students milling to here and there was really quite the sight, even these enormous locker rooms doing little to deter the bustle of several dozen new potential students amongst the many that already belonged here, picking up their own gear for missions or training.

Weiss clicked her tongue, as long as they minded her space unlike that dolt in red from the day before then she'd manage.

Weiss extracted her beloved Myrtenaster from her locker and began to refill the dust cartridges with the appropriate sorts. She barely paid attention to the people changing in here, either not caring or trying to seem appealing in the presence of the opposite sex. It was disgusting, she had made explicit care to change beforehand, thus she now stood prepared for departure.

Myrtenaster's revolving chamber clicked back into place and the Heiress began to make way for the initiation's starting point.

A glimpse of bright red hair to her side and a smirk graced her pale pink lips.

' _A little detour wouldn't hurt_ '

"Pyrrha!" the redhead turned around so fast that the Heiress idly wondered whether she had been expecting somebody. Recognition flashed into the emerald green of the Champion and Weiss knew that she had her locked down. "Good morning"

"Oh, hello Weiss." she bowed her head slightly in greeting, lips turned up in a pleasant smile "A pleasure to see you again" Weiss hummed in acknowledgement, rolling on to more important matters

"So I was wondering if you would like to be on a team with me?" Pyrrha's head tilted ever so slightly, the request coming from nowhere. Of course, Weiss was miles away, mapping out her plot overtake the school with the combined effort of her intelligence and Pyrrha's battle prowess.

"Well I was planning on letting the chips fall where they may" and she was brought back, a small look of displeasure on her face only worsening once a hand found her should and she was asked to move aside.

"Ugh!" Weiss whirled on the blonde soldier, eyes of frozen blue far more heated than they should have been "The nerve... do you even know who you're talking to?!" she questioned, disregarding the few odd looks from other initiates and the look of embarrassment on Pyrrha's for this altercation to have even come about.

Funnily enough, she did sense no recognition in the mans eyes, instead receiving a small look over and a shrug to follow it up "No idea I'm afraid, I'm not from around Vale you see." he offered, though she was not at all deterred.

"Who cares if you aren't from Vale?! Pyrrha Nikos is known worldwide!" she huffed "She graduated top of her class at Sanctum after all!" the man looked a little confused as he went on. "Champion of the Mistral tournament for four years in a row!"

"You did?"

"Wha-?" Weiss went red in the face and about ready to explode "I'm not Pyrrha you dolt! I'm Weiss Schnee! SCHNEE!" again she saw no recognition "You don't know the face of the heiress to the Schnee corporation?" she asked more calmly now, more lost than frustrated at this point.

He made an 'o' shape with his mouth and she thought she finally had him "Oh I just thought you were referring to yourself in the third person; I know a lot of people who do that so..." he cleared his throat of the conversation, not trying to compare the porcelain features of Weiss to a green skin. "But no, I don't know of Schnee nor your business I'm afraid."

Her right eye twitched and she ignored the sound of Pyrrha gasping aloud at this revelation "You... don't know of the Schnee Dust Company?" surely not, you couldn't live in this world without dust, and the only way to have an efficient means of getting some was through her fathers business.

He actually seemed to consider that "Oh so you handle the dust?" he wondered aloud "Are you like a local business? Retail?" Weiss threw her hands up in the air at that.

"BUFFOON! I cannot believe I let you fool me like that!" she glared icy daggers at him "Do NOT mock my family name you dolt" she flicked her head forward, lopsided ponytail whipping around after her as she strode off, sufficiently riled by his unintentional mockery.

"I cannot believe I fell for that fools ploy..." she muttered to herself, getting angrier and angrier as she replayed that idiotic look on his face as she spoke to him, looking so innocent to his own tricks with that mocking poker face!

She grit her teeth with cheeks red from anger, and a little something else.

' _Why did he have to be cute?'_

* * *

Jaune heard melodic laughter and turned to face the angel in bronze before him, ignoring the dazzle of her emerald green eyes and the drapes of red framing her features. Why are all of the women in this world such spectacular specimens? He had attractive women in his unit in hindsight but few like this, not in this quality and quantity.

Made in the hundreds it seemed.

"You really shouldn't play with her like that you know" she was laughing into her fist, as if trying to hide the fact and failing. "You upset her quite a lot"

Jaune just sighed and moved forward to finally reach his locker "I wasn't playing, I just wasn't in the loop" he admits, a few seconds passing before Pyrrha realises she couldn't find any trace of deceit in his eyes.

"You're serious?" she too looks amazed by this knowledge, "Well... I'll admit that I have yet to meet a man not aware of the worlds lead and arguably only real supply chain of dust to the world" she watched his eyes widen, hands stilled in his locker with whatever he had been messing with.

"That large scale?" he idly wondered how a world not unified could have only one supply of their main source of energy, that very energy powering everything from vehicles to lights, not to mention the very weaponry that the worlds Hunter's needed. Surely this Schnee company had too much power, too easy to cut off connections with whichever kingdom they saw fit to.

This company must have more influence than the damned council if he could simply point his finger in any direction and birth a new city.

That girl really had the power to make or break whatever or whomever she willed.

"I'm afraid that is the case." he nods but then he remembers what else she was saying.

"She also made a big deal out of you" she flinched at that "Are you like a champion of Remnant or something?" she looked like she wanted to deny it but couldn't.

"I'm more of a champion for Mistral" he whistled aloud at that, back at digging into his locker.

"The life of a Hunter is glamorous from an outside perspective; saving lives in your duty is a rewarding thing indeed" he spoke from his own recollections, smiling softly and ignorant to the dilemma she seemed to be going through at his words.

He continued to find and strap his gear to his person for another half a minute before she piped up again "I... I've never actually saved a life." he gave her a befuddled look "I'm a champion in the way that I have won tournaments held in Mistral for the Junior divisions to define the strongest." his look of confusion grew worse as his brow creased.

"You fight fellow men and women?" she grimaced at that.

"It's a form of entertainment to some, for me it's to hone my abilities to excel when it comes to training here at Beacon." Jaune nodded, brow still raised slightly in skepticism.

"So do you often spend time away to exterminate this Grimm threat?" she froze up again and he fixed her a look "Best in Mistral and it's spent for entertainment before duty?" he looks baffled, almost frustrated by the lack of logic in such a notion.

But he sees the hurt and regret in her eyes at his words and reigns himself in "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend." he bows his head down "Please forgive me." he looks up to her face and offers her a smile "I assumed things I don't truly understand the scope of, I am sure you have your reasons and that you came to a school to train means you too saw something more than life upon a pedestal." he chuckled softly "I hope you find your way Pyrrha." he strapped the last plate to his chest and then left before she could even get his name.

She brought her hands to her chest and watched his broad back as he left. Her lips turned up in a wistful smile and it came to her that not only had he not known who she was, he acted like it was insignificant to who she was now.

She wasn't Pyrrha the celebrity.

She was Pyrrha the Huntress-in-training.

* * *

"Any questions?" Ozpin's eyes went over the entirety of the student initiation group for the year, seeing none raise any questions at his rundown of what they had to do exactly.

He had high hopes for a number of these prospective students, and no small amount of curiosity centered around their newest addition.

There were the Silver eyes, the Maidens and then him, and somehow he was the most insane amongst them.

* * *

Jaune was ready for this. He didn't know much about these Grimm other than from what he was told, but if these kids could all handle it with such casual smiles on their faces, then surely a hardened war veteran such as he could carve his way through with ease.

 _'Some threat they must be if they send children to kill dozens to hundreds just to see if they're worth actually being accepted at a school that trains them to kill the things they killed to get in.'_

He didn't quite get it, but whatever.

Nor did he understand the significance of these square plates they were each stood upon. Where was their 'bullhead'?

"I hope you've all prepared your landing strategies."

Our what?

And then suddenly all he knew was wrong. Up was down, left was right and forward was omni-directional with how wildly he flailed around. It took him all of five seconds to realise that the Inquisitor had flung him into the air without even handing him a chute or a jetpack, and now he was starting the day off with a less-than-advisable attempt at saving his own life from certain death.

He groaned, just like the majority of his mornings then.

He corrected his midair posture and began to brainstorm. The treeline was fast approaching but his mind was capable of handling such fast paced thinking even under life-or-death situations. If he wasn't then he'd have died years ago.

Currently he only had his sword on him as a weapon, and a number of plates strapped to him as armour plating. He was somewhat tanky but he wasn't stupid enough to think that the plates would do anything but crush into his body at the point of impact. He was plenty strong, stronger than most people of Remnant he'd imagine, and that was factoring in Ruby and her ability to swing around a giant metal scythe for a living. Maybe he could stick his sword into a tree and slow his descent?

Surely not, his weight would probably rip his arm out of its socket if not just take it off entirely, especially since he'd have to stick his sword in at an angle that wouldn't let it drag, the blade was more than sharp enough to go through the tree like it wasn't there, taking him out the other side with his weight thrown to one side. That would just start the flailing again.

Would he have to hope to aim for foliage enough to break his fall enough not to make him a stain? There was always the option to-

Years of fighting in lands hostile enough to have you fighting for your life even in times of suspected peace had forged a sort of sixth sense into many of the soldiers of the Imperium, and his was sharper than most. So when a spear launched at his person with frightening speed, he managed to perform a deft roll in the air to avoid it, grimacing as it severed the lower half of his overcoat, ripping a large hole into the fabric.

"Friendly fire?" he wondered, so focused on the point of origin that he hadn't the time to avoid the ribbon suddenly wrapping around his ankle, swinging his momentum down and around before it went slack a few metres from the ground, where he performed a roll to bleed away the remaining momentum.

He looked up to find the girl in black from the night before, drinking in the sight of her dressed in what he could easily assume was her combat gear, and it was when his eyes went to her upturned lips that he realised that she had been the one to save him.

"Was your landing strategy to be saved by those that actually came up with their own?" she commented playfully, a lovely smile on her face as she dropped down to gracefully saunter over to him. "So you're my partner for four years." he chuckled softly and gave her a weak nod, one she returned "I'm okay with that" and like that she was by him, leaving him to follow her with a mix of surprise and giddiness at her words.

Partner acquired.

* * *

 **Chapter was late and I lied, combat is next chapter.**

 **So it ended up being that Blake was his partner, I kinda came up with that on a whim because I didn't want to favour anybody in particular myself as his partner. I literally decided to myself that it was going to be anybody.**

 **Pyrrha took the chance to try but ingrained reflexes saved him from that.**

 **His final team though, I'll let you guys make suggestions for that.**

 **I hope this lets you see that whilst he isn't weak, he also isn't overly strong. One problem RWBY has is that if you're important, you're overpowered. They basically never lose fights and if they do it's because it was against somebody absurdly beyond their level. Jaune is the only real exception to that, and Ren was to a degree as well, the only two amongst RWBY and JNPR that aren't terrifying powerhouses.**

 **So if it comes to flesh and blood, Jaune is easily the strongest man in Remnant, as he would be compared to an average human. When aura (which he doesn't have) and semblances (also doesn't have) are added to the mix, he's beat, and it takes a set of circumstances to have him win a fight. He needs to be smart with the handicaps he has in this world, but most Grimm are gonna be easy since they aren't nearly as awful a threat as they're made out to be.**

 **Truth about Remnant is that it all comes down to your aura and semblance to win.**

 **Anyway, Follow, fave, review and all that malarkey.**

 **Au Revoir for now Readers! ^^**


End file.
